


Mad Love

by Zero_Gravity



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Crime Fighting, Humor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Moral Ambiguity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7635079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zero_Gravity/pseuds/Zero_Gravity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were innocent people, and bad people. Ivan didn't believe much in gray areas. A crime was a crime, and that was what he'd been trained to fight ever since his parents died.</p><p>But then a blonde man or two shows up and keeps making him second guess everything.</p><p>(Batman-inspired AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, I took the original down because there was sort of a massive plot change and I needed to rework a bunch of stuff. Sorry about that. But it should all be good now.

Ivan sat in his office, staring at a computer screen. It showed him the picture of a man, and a marked map of the city. Not the one he was born in, but the one he claimed as home. He protected it, in some ways, under the alias of _Medved_. Citizens called him a _superhero_ , like a character in their comic books. Well, _now_ they did. When he had first gone out to apprehend a serial store robber, they had been wary of him. Wondering what his intentions were, what he wanted. After a few criminals were locked away, the ones the police had a particularly hard time catching, they began to warm up to him. Or the idea of him. Which ever. It didn't matter as long as they didn't get in his way.

Ivan wasn't sure how he felt about the title of hero. He wasn't necessarily trying to better the city, he just wanted to remove the bad people. The good ones that were left could better it. They could repair the playgrounds and clean up litter, operate daycares and schools, encourage each other to be kinder. Ivan did not have time for those things. He spent most nights patrolling, and his days were occupied by monotonous business duties. Only so many hours in a day, as the saying went.

The pictures he was currently studying were of a new threat, the Ghost, whom had shown up little over a month ago. Ivan hadn't seen him in a while, which he supposed was a good thing. Whoever he was, he had a penchant for explosives, setting up homemade bombs in empty stores and abandoned buildings. Three people, so far, had been in the worst place possible when they went off.

A few pieces of security camera footage had survived. They showed the Ghost setting up his work, expressionless, seemingly emotionless. He was pale, with white hair that draped over his shoulders, and red eyes. His clothes were a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, and he was barefoot. He also wore a brown glove that covered his entire right arm. No one could identify him, neither the police's facial recognition software nor Ivan's own programs, and no one had come forward after his picture was put on the news. The only thing anyone could really guess about him was that his intention did not seem to be to hurt anyone. Intention, being the key word. It was a lingering question as to whether or not he  _cared_ that people had been.

He also seemed to vanish as soon he was done, disappearing on camera in the blink of eye. That, added with his pale appearance, earned him his nickname as The Ghost. Some people, particularly those interested in genetics, speculated that he might -or  _had to_ \- be a Super. Theories began circulating that he might have this or that ability. Teleportation and invisibility were popular ideas.

Supers, themselves, were a relatively new phenomenon, as far as public knowledge went. They had begun making themselves known after a man with pyrokinesis accidentally burned down his apartment building. Hospitals had tried requesting people come in voluntarily for minor testing and examinations. Remarkably few had, as a fear of exposing themselves was growing alongside public anxiety about them and their abilities.

Ivan looked up from his screen to the man standing on the other side of his desk. Winter, a family friend and house butler since before Ivan could remember. “You said you have something?”

“Yes,” Winter said, “a video interrupted yesterday afternoon's news broadcastings. I believe it was intended for you. It aired during your meeting. I am afraid you were too busy up with the company board to have see it.”

“Mm.” Ivan had to wonder for a moment if that had been intentional, but the Ghost did not know who he was. They had never met while he was Ivan, and only once he was Medved. Neither encounters were enough for the Ghost to know when he'd be available to watch. “You have a recording, I assume?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Play it, please.”

Winter gave a single, firm nod and turned on his heel, marching to the flat screen hanging on the opposite wall. He swiped the remote from the coffee table and slid in the disk he'd copied the video on for safekeeping. With the press of a small button, the television screen flickered on.

It showed a concrete room with nothing but a chair set in the middle, a brown teddy bear sitting on it, and a bald light bulb hanging overhead. The only thing on the wall was a clock ticking in rhythm. The scene was so still and silent, Ivan would have thought it was merely a picture if not for that. He blinked, suppressing a flinch when a loud bang rang out, a firecracker exploding from within the bear, stuffing sent flying and furred fabric blown apart. Singed remains were left, embers glowing dimly.

The video cut off to a screen of fuzzy gray static, white noise filling the room in its wake. Even that closed out to blackness, Winter having shut off the screen. He removed the disk and walked calmly back to Ivan's desk, setting down in front of him.

“What do you make of it, Ivan?” Winter asked, mild curiosity showing in an otherwise stoic face.

Ivan hummed, staring at the shiny disk. “A taunt, or perhaps a challenge?”

“He wants you to hunt him,” Winter offered. Ivan nodded along. “Is there anything you would like me to?”

“Stay alert and prepared,” Ivan decided on for now, “hire body guards for my sisters, whether they like it or not. Whether they _know_ or not.”

“Of course, sir,” Winter said. “Anything else?”

“No, that is all, thank you.” Ivan flicked his eyes back to the computer screen, back to the Ghost's face. “I would like some time alone, please.”

With a short, silent bow of his head, Winter turned and showed himself out of the room.

Ivan closed out of the files he'd had open, leaving only the field of sunflowers he kept as a background. He stood and rounded the corner of his desk, walking up to small bar settled against the adjacent wall. There was a clean glass and a bottle of expensive vodka.

So.

The Ghost wanted to play a game.

Ivan sipped his drink, savoring the dull burn it trailed down the back of his throat. It was almost exciting, this new game with its mystery player. When would the Ghost's next move be? Ivan had little room to retaliate beforehand, needing to hide his identity and _not_ terrify citizens. As Winter would likely put it, that was not something a hero would do and therefor could tarnish his reputation. For now, Ivan would simply have to wait and see.

* * *

No more than a day had gone past. Ivan sat in dull business meetings and oversaw the inner workings of his parents' company, becoming increasingly distracted by the matter. He kept a close eye on the news, watching for any other possible Ghost sightings.

It was a Saturday evening, the work day over. Ivan sat in an armchair in the drawing room, a wide fireplace lit before him and an open book in his lap. _War And Peace,_ by Leo Tolstoy. He'd read it several times, always going back to it for familiarity. It was one of his father's favorites, a napkin with a smudged note to remember his wedding anniversary still tucked inside the front cover.

Ivan's ears perked at the footsteps approaching from his right. “Sir,” Winter said, “you have a message.”

Ivan looked up curiously, wondering if this was it. Winter held out a small cellular device, screen lit up to show a clawed bear paw. With it was a message, a call for help, and an address.

Ivan smiled, leaning his jaw on his palm. “So soon, Ghost?”

He prepared to leave immediately, going down to the hidden rooms underneath the house, the entrance to which was kept behind a bookshelf. It opened only by a fingerprint scanner disguised as a knot in the wood. Winter often called it his 'bear cave,' to which Ivan often rolled his eyes. He dressed in his chosen uniform: black pants and shirt, fitted for optimized movement and padded with thick black armor. A bulletproof vest, black boots, leather gloves, and a full-face gas mask. It muffled his voice and obscured his identity. Plus, it...looked kind of cool.

In the garage, he decided on taking the motorcycle. It was slimmer, and would get him there the fastest. He bolted from the garage door, located around the back of the manor and leading to a dirt road, where no one would be able to see him leave.

Reports had been made by several people that yellow feathers had shown up in a toy store, littering the floor. No one knew how they got there, but it was almost certain to be the Ghost. Working attendants claimed they'd just showed up, out of nowhere. One had gone to the restroom, another was stocking a high shelf. They turned back to the floor and, to their disturbed surprise, there were bird feathers all over the tiles. They'd reported it to the police, unsure of what else to do.

Upon receiving the complaints, Officer Toris Laurinaitis, Ivan's police informant, had gone to check it out. As odd as the feathers were, he connected a few hidden wires he found to the ones at the Ghost's other crime scenes, and speculated that it may be him. He sent a message to the contact number he'd been given by Medved.

Ivan banked around cars and trucks as he sped down the streets. Anticipation eased into bubbling excitement the closer he got to the inner city. It was a clear night, cool but not chilly, a few clouds blocking the quarter moon. Perfect weather for a fight, in his mind. Any weather was, really. He was prepared for whatever the Ghost might throw at him, almost giggling in his eagerness to put a few dents in that face of his. He also fully expected the Ghost to disappear, as always, and tried to brush it off. There would be next times and he would figure out how to apprehend him in such a way that he would not be able to escape.

Ivan slowed once he reached the street the toy store was on and made a sharp turn down a narrow alley between buildings. He slipped off his helmet, designed to fit over his mask, and checked himself over one last time, making sure he had everything he ready.

His favorite weapon, a metal pipe, was strapped to his back. A loaded tranquilizer gun was strapped to his thigh, serrated knives rested in a sheath on the other, clawed metal plates rested over his black gloved knuckles. Around his waist was a utility belt, holding projecting grappling hook, tracers, and a lock picking kit. Ivan smiled to himself. It was something he took pride in, not having a superpower, instead taking people down with his own _human_ strength and ingenuity alone.

He slipped off his bike and marched down the sidewalk, ignoring the wary glances from citizens that had evacuated the store after discovering the feathers. Officer Laurinaitis was still there and attempted to catch his attention, waving to him. Ivan stopped for a moment as the man hurried over to him.

“Before you go in- those wires. It could be explosives. Bomb squad is on the way.”

“Hm.” He figured at much. Ivan brushed passed him in favor of entering the building. He wanted to get to the interesting part already.

Inside, it was clear some small attempt had been made to brush the feathers into piles. It was an interesting sight. The feathers looked fake, at least, soft and fluffy, like the ones Yekaterina used when doing crafts with her children.

“Ghost,” Ivan said loudly, wondering where he would come out from, if anywhere. He may have set the explosives and left as he usually did.

Ivan scanned over the brightly lit aisles, all in a rainbow of different colors. Among the stuffed animals, Ivan spotted some very familiar bears. This must have been where the Ghost got it. He started down a center aisle, seeing the wires Officer Laurinaitis had been talking about running along the back wall. Someone stepped around the end of the aisle, holding a small black box, and Ivan paused. They looked back at him.

The Ghost stared with wide eyes. He couldn't possibly be surprised.

Ivan narrowed his eyes, clenching his fists, and started for him. He was not getting away this time. They both jumped when a body landed on the linoleum several feet in front of Ivan, jumping down from the top of a shelf.

A blonde man, lithe but muscular, and shorter than Ivan. Dressed in red and white vertically striped jeans and a matching denim vest, both skin tight. A white leather riding mask covered his nose and mouth, and white goggles with red lenses sat over his eyes. Ivan's eyes trailed from goggles to tall black boots, lingering on the exposed skin of the man's abdomen, where the tattooed outlines of stars dipped teasingly into his waistband.

Ivan was too distracted by the way the man's hips swayed to notice the metal bat sailing for his head in time. He hit the ground with a hard  _thud_ , landing solidly on his shoulder from the inhuman force. His mask took the brunt of the swing, leaving splintering cracks in the material.

“Sorry, but I can't let you get to Mr. G, Medved.” The voice was muffled by the mask, but he still sounded young. “It's cool to see you up close, though. You're a lot bigger than I thought you were.”

Ivan pushed himself up, trying to will the dizziness away quicker ( _just how hard had he hit him?_ ), and sneered up at the man. “And what is he planning to do here?”

Ivan watched his boots step closer, then raised his eyes to his opponent's hands. The man kept his bat slung across his shoulders, a contrasting casualness to the visible tension in his muscles. “Here? Oh, Ghostie's gonna blow this place to bits.”

“Why?” Ivan growled, taking a few uneasy, precautionary steps back as he readjusted his mask to sit as properly on his face as it would, and tried to steady himself on his feet. His head was still spinning a little. “What purpose would that serve?”

“I'm afraid that's confidential.” In one swift move the man kicked hard at his stomach, Ivan's arms swinging down to block just a second too late, and sent him toppling back to the ground. The air rushed out of Ivan's lungs, leaving a painful ache in his solar plexus. “Just get out of here and I won't have to hurt you.”

“Answer me!” Ivan got up quickly, this _man_ staying put as he got back on his feet. He hated the airy wheeze in his voice. It made him sound weak. How strong _was_ he? He wasn't- No. That was it. Strength. A Super. He had to be. Ivan glanced up in time to see that bat go swinging again and dodged out of the way, falling back by several feet. “That will not work twice, little one.”

He watch the man bend at the waist for momentum before hurling himself after Ivan. “I'm. Not. Little!” Each word was punctuated by an erratic swing, Ivan managing to narrowly dodge each one. He noted that the man let his emotions get to him. That could easily be worked into Ivan's favor.

Ivan smirked behind his gas mask, “then give me a name.”

The man sucked in a deep breath, taking several uneasy steps back as he tried to form a new tactic. Ivan wondered how new he was to all of this, especially considering he'd never seen him before. He put up a good fight, though, and at least had some skill. “Stars.”

“Stars,” Ivan repeated, looking him over again while he had the time, and chuckled. He slowly began to reach for his pipe. “And you a wearing stripes. How cute, a walking pun.”

“Shut up!” Stars charged at him, bat readied, and swung for his head. Ivan met it with his pipe and held up to block. They remained locked together, Ivan's eyes narrowed to glaring slits. “Just get out of here and no one gets hurt!”

“You seem so adamant about that,” Ivan hissed, jaw beginning to ache from how hard he pressed his teeth together. “Too bad I do not believe you.”

He shoved forward, sending Stars stumbling back. He was quick to recover, readying his bat. They continued like that, blocking or dodging most strikes and refusing to stay down when they did get hit, and neither paying attention to the toys they knocked off the shelves.

Ivan tried to see a way around Stars, or a way to knock him out. He wasn't familiar enough with super-strength to know any weaknesses, and he didn't have the time to waste figuring out how to deal with him. Ivan flexed his grip on his pipe, feeling the metal of his clawed plates press against his knuckles. He considered making a swipe for some of Stars' exposed skin, but hesitated. That could potentially do a lot of irreversible damage. The thought was not an appealing one at the moment. He also couldn't help wondering if Stars' face was as pretty as the rest of him. No, no claws.

Ivan ducked and swung with his pipe in a low arch, hitting Stars' thigh and causing his knees to buckle with a choked yelp. He crumpled to the floor, grip still firm on his bat, but he was quick to recover, jumping back to his feet to catch Ivan's pipe with his bat again.

Ivan watched him curiously for a moment while they were once again still, their fight more for dominance than to cause damage. He noticed the slight tremor in the leg he'd hit. How much strength was Stars exerting? How much was he holding back, if at all? Ivan would have to do some research on known superpowers once he got home.

Stars grunted as he used more force to shove forward, almost like he was trying to throw Ivan back the way he'd come. Ivan swung an arm to keep his balance, very narrowly avoiding falling backwards. “Would you just get out of here already?!”

He sounded so frustrated, almost distressed, like he genuinely did not want to hurt him. Ivan might have asked about that if the Ghost himself hadn't shown up directly behind Stars. He gasped as the Ghost grabbed him around the waist tightly and-

They were gone. Ivan cursed under his breath. Left behind was a timer, numbers flashing red as they counted down. 6 _...5...4..._

Shit.

Ivan turned sharply and ran for the exit, one small explosion already going off behind him. He ducked on the sidewalk, covering his head with his arms just in time to cover from the following mess. The ground vibrated, glass shattering into dust and shards all around him, and his palms hit the pavement. The entire inside of the toy store was destroyed, smoke pluming from the blackened door and windows. Thankfully, the blow stayed contained within the single building. No fatalities, just repairable wreckage.

“Medved! Are you okay?” He could make out Officer Laurinaitis' worried voice hovering somewhere above his head. Ivan shifted, curling his legs under him for standing leverage. “Oh, dear.”

Fingers gingerly touched his shoulder, where a large shard of glass had torn through his suit, and Ivan jerked away. A feather than had stuck to him fell to the cement. “I am fine.”

“I should call for a paramedic-”

“I am _fine_ ,” Ivan growled, and Laurinaitis flinched away. Ivan stood, only a little unsteady but well enough. He saw an armored black truck nearby, _Bomb Squad_ printed in bold white letters on the side. Men with large black shields were hurrying into the building. Ivan started down the sidewalk, back towards his bike. He would go home, clean up, review the night. There would be a next time, and he would beat the Ghost's face in then.

He also needed to find out more about Stars.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Medved - Bear (Russian)
> 
> Urgh, fight scenes are weird to write. I hope it's not too bad.  
> And if anyone is wondering, since Alfred and the Ghost are sort of like Harley Quinn and the Joker, there will not be a love triangle. Alfred and the Ghost's relationship, while very close, is completely platonic.  
> Recommended song: Heathens by Twenty One Pilots
> 
> Thanks for reading :) comments and kudos are very much appreciated.


	2. Chapter Two

Ivan leaned back in his seat, his left elbow propped on the arm as Natalia cleaned a gash on his shoulder. The disinfectant stung dully, but he ignored it. They were in his cave, while Ivan technically should have been overseeing the preparations for an upcoming dinner party. An annual fund raising event for one of the children's hospitals Braginsky Industries supported. Yekaterina was currently taking care of those things for him, having fun with the planning and allowing Ivan to deal with some more personal matters.

On one of the screens in front of him was a close up of Stars, capture on footage discovered on the outside security camera of small shop across the street from the toy store. Stars had been standing on the sidewalk for a few moments before entering the building. He crept out from an alley, peeking around a corner before hurrying to the storefront. No one had seen him once he entered, though, and Ivan suspected the Ghost had something to do with that.

He studied Stars' picture, slightly blurred from being zoomed in on. Stars held his bat over one shoulder, turned away from the door slightly to look down the road. Now that Ivan could slow down and properly observe him, he noted the golden shade of his hair and the light tan of his skin. It was a shame his mask and goggles obscured his face, but Ivan could understand the need.

“If I had been there-”

“No,” Ivan stated firmly. They had been over this before, far too many times. Natalia stood next to him, hands delicately working to wrap his injury in gauze. She wanted to go with Ivan when he went out. He would not allow it, holding a firm stance to protect what was left of his family.

Natalia huffed and glared at the picture of Stars. “Have you found anything about him?”

Ivan shook his head, leaning forward to click away from the picture and open another document. Like with the Ghost, it only showed how little information they had about Stars. White, blond, male, aged eighteen to thirty. Ivan doubted he was that old, but a wider bracket allowed less room for error, less potential answers missed.

“You are being hypocritical,” Natalia said, pressing a little harder on the medical tape than needed. Ivan could feel her leaning on the back of his chair.

“Hm?” He hummed, not taking his eyes off of the screens. On another screen, he was running a search for anyone by Stars' description. Even narrowed by his estimated height and weight, it still left a large pool of possible candidates, and that was only _if_ he was registered anywhere.

“Saying it is too dangerous for me, but not for you. You can not expect to always do this alone, especially not with the Ghost out there. If he really is a Super, like everyone is saying, then he has an upper hand. Now there is also this- this _Stars_ person. Just how many people do you think you can take on at once? You are not invincible, Vanya.”

“And this is not a _discussion_ , Natalia,” Ivan said, his voice hard, and twisted in his seat to send her a stern stare over his shoulder. He was tired of this argument. She dragged it on too damn much. “I have _training_. A few years playing with darts and knives will not protect you out there.”

Natalia's whole body went rigid as frustration swelled, cheeks reddening and mind working to formulate a response. She deflated with a huffed, shoving away from him, her work on his shoulder now done. Ivan knew he had won for now. He also knew that it would inevitably come up again, and run its course until they were both blue in the face. Honestly, he sometimes feared she would just go against his wishes and run out after him regardless.

Ivan pulled up a private browser and started a search. _Superpowers._ Anything that was known about them, what kinds had been recorded and studied, if any officially. His programs drew from all sources, including classified ones from the General Hospital. There were a few. Element manipulation, mental manipulation, invisibility, healing, flight, enhanced senses. A handful of others had been listed simply as _known_ , with no other information presented. Super-strength was, disappointingly, not on any list he could find. There were a few stories of stress-induced instances, parents lifting crashed cars off children and such, but nothing about super-strength as a permanent trait.

Ivan placed his hand over the gas mask in his lap. The one Stars broke with a single swing of his bat, leaving a dark bruise on his temple. He traced the cracks with his fingertips, thinking back to their fight. His little Stars in stripes. It had been fun. Hopefully Ivan would get to see him again, it would be a challenge to pin down someone so impossibly strong.

Ivan briefly let himself wonder just how much it would actually take to tie him up.

“Ivan,” Winter's stern voice said from behind him.

Ivan snapped his attention to him, looking behind himself. Natalia was gone, and Winter was there. He had been too focused on Stars to notice. And he felt safe enough in his cave, he knew he didn't much to worry about. Outside of himself, only Winter and Natalia were able to get down there. Technically, Yekaterina could, too, but she wouldn't. And Ivan refused to believe a single person could capture his attention to that degree.

“Yes?” He asked, giving a small smile.

Winter glanced at the screen with Stars' picture and a hard look crossed his eyes. “The police files you requested have arrived.”

“Ah- right,” Ivan set the mask on top of the desk. He had a few spares in storage. Maybe he'd keep that one in his bedroom. He took the manila folder from Winter and began to flip through its contents. He'd requested anything pertaining to Supers, and anything he thought could have a possible connection. Cases involving spontaneous combustion and other unusual occurrences.

“And, Ivan,” Winter said, not having moved, eyes back on the picture of Stars. Ivan looked up to wait for whatever he might say. “It would be wisest for you to keep a distance from distractions.”

Ivan held his breath a second too long. “What distractions.” Without waiting for a reply, he went back to the files. “I will be taking these to Braginsky Labs later on today.”

“Very well.” He could still feel Winter's eyes on him for a while longer, until the man finally turned and left the cave.

Ivan steadily kept his eyes on the police files, only looking up again once the elevator doors closed behind Winter. He could look at Stars. That didn't mean he was a distraction. Ivan was still focused, determined. Some rival boy would not deter that.

Ivan entered all collected data into his computer and organizing it accordingly. After checking it over one last time, he got up to leave for the labs, bidding a quick goodbye to Natalia when he passed her reading in the sitting room.

It didn't take long to get there. They were in the Braginsky Industries building, on the upper floors. Ivan rode the elevator, listening to the slow classical music that always played. With a _ding_ , the doors slid open to a long, stark hallway. Each scientist had their own lab, or could work in groups if they so chose to collaborate. The one he was paying a visit to almost always worked alone.

Several doors down was the lab of Matthew Williams-Jones, one of the youngest in Ivan's employ at twenty-four. According to the extensive background check he'd done before hiring him, both he and a twin brother were among the top of their peers in education. They'd skipped a grade in primary school, went to college early, and both earned masters degrees in a relatively short amount of time. While Matthew went for biological science, the other went for psychology with a scholarship in gymnastics.

Ivan swung the door open to Mr. Williams-Jones' lab.

Matthew nearly choked on his lunch, a chicken sandwich from McDonald's. “Mr. Braginsky! Uh-” He hastily gathered up his lunch into one corner of his multiple desks, then quickly attempted clear up the scattered papers and other work supplies littering his work space. It was quite the mess, honestly, though the highly driven tended to do that, not stopping long enough to think to clean up.

“Dude, chill,” someone sitting on one of the desks chuckled. Ivan looked over at him and stared for a moment, their eyes catching on each other. Very blue eyes, behind glasses with black plastic frames and a splattering of freckles across tanned cheeks. His hair seemed to glow gold in the dim lighting of the lab, his small smile more of a teasing smirk.

“Uh-” Matthew said again, abandoning his mess in favor of standing politely, “s-sorry, I wasn't expecting you. Um. This is my brother, Alfred, he was just visiting for lunch. Uh, how can I help you?”

Peeling his eyes away from Alfred, Ivan focused on Matthew. “You are doing research on Supers, yes?”

Matthew shifted, glancing briefly to the side, “well, I mean, yeah. But it's not really, um, going anywhere. Yet!”

“Because people are fucking scared,” Alfred cut in with a huff.

Matthew snapped his head around to look at him, saying all in one breath, “name a seven letter word that has thousands of letters.” While Alfred's face scrunched up in thought, he turned back to Ivan with a small smile, “sorry about him. What did you need?”

Ivan stepped further into the lab, holding out the manila folder. “I brought some police files that may be helpful to your research.”

“Oh,” Matthew's face lit up with delighted surprise, taking the folder and flipping it open. “Yeah, thanks. You didn't have to hand-deliver them, though. That must have been kind of inconvenient for you.”

Ivan shrugged. “I wanted to look through them myself, as a personal interest, and I was in the office anyway. It is no matter.” His eyes drifted to Alfred, who was openly staring at him, then back to Matthew. “I also had some questions, if you do not mind.”

Matthew looked up, adjusting his glasses, and shook his head. “No, that's fine. Ask away.” He sat back down in his swivel chair and set the folder on his desk.

“Letters!” Alfred nearly shouted, grabbing his brother's attention.

“Huh?”

“Letters, as in all of the letters written in the history of ever. That's gotta be, like, billions at least.”

Matthew stared at him for a moment. “Well...I mean- you're not wrong. But the answer was mailbox.”

“What?” Alfred frowned, confused, and it crossed Ivan's mind that it was rather cute. “A mailbox can't hold _thousands_ letters. A few hundred, maybe. Unless it's like, one of those big public ones. _And_ they get emptied regularly, probably well before the count even hits a hundred. _**And**_ , they get more than letters. There's also, like packages and shit that gets put in there, and-”

“Okay, Al,” Matthew said firmly, “you maid your point, your answer made sense. Whatever. Just- shut up.” He pouted and Alfred grinned triumphantly, his smile lopsided.

“What did you want to ask, Mr. Braginsky?” Matthew asked.

Again, Ivan had to peel his eyes away from Alfred. “I was wondering what you thought on the idea that unsolved cases involving unusual circumstances, such as spontaneous combustion, could be related to Supers.”

“Hm,” Matthew hummed, sifting through the files again. “Yeah. Actually. That makes sense. I had this idea that kind of goes along with that. I think it's possible that Supers try to hide or suppress their powers, or aren't even aware they have them, because they possess abilities our current understanding of biology says they shouldn't have. For example, that recent case with the man with pyrokinesis. There was another person, more recently, that accidentally flooded a public indoor pool with their ability to control water. It could also account for why they're just now becoming public knowledge.”

“And you think this -suppressing abilities, not being aware of them- leads to...outbursts?” Ivan asked, leaning against one of the desks spaced around the room.

“Well, duh,” Alfred added, “imagine what trying to hide something like that does to a persons mental health. Especially if they don't know any other Supers. They're gonna think something is seriously wrong with them, which makes them afraid of it -afraid of _talking_ about it,- which leads to unstable mental health and an inability to properly handle their superpower. It could result in shit like depression and anxiety, which is hard enough for people _without_ them. It's fucking bullshit people are blaming them for losing control when they're that afraid of themselves.”

Matthew glanced from Alfred to Ivan and back, “Al, I don't think that's really what Mr. Braginsky is interested in-”

“No, no, it is fine,” Ivan waved a hand dismissively, “it is an interesting perspective. Certainly something to consider. Alfred, was it?”

“Yeah.” Alfred leaned back on his palms. Ivan tried not to notice the way his shirt stretched over his chest.

“Where is it that you work?”

“Gotham Theater of Performing Arts.”

Matthew's eyes darted between them, something between curiosity and concern.

“Mm, right. I do recall seeing something about you in the newspaper, for your Peter Pan performance. I had heard you were also something of a psychologist.”

“Something like that,” Alfred said, “decided to try some other stuff before pursuing that further.”

“You studied under Dr. Edelstein, correct?” Ivan resisted moving closer. Alfred nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. Ivan could see in his face the way he was trying to figure out where this was going.

“Yeah,” Alfred said, drawing the word out, “why? If you need help, I am obligated to tell you I am _not_ licensed. But, I can hook you up with someone. I mean, I get it, a guy in your position must be under a lot of stress.”

“I- that is not-” Ivan stammered. Alfred quirked a brow, smirk growing, and Ivan stopped before he embarrassed himself. “No. I am fine, thank you. But this research particularly interests me. I was only wondering if you would be available to answer questions, should any arise.”

Alfred's smirk faltered as a small crease formed between his brows, “about what?”

“Supers,” Ivan said, “it may be helpful to have some insights into their...possible psyche. Unfortunately, I am not as adept in the field of psychology as I would like to be.”

Alfred eyed him for a moment. He shrugged one shoulder, nodding, “yeah, I guess I could tell you some stuff. It'd only be theoretical, though. Can't really figure out someone's head unless they tell you what goes on in there.”

He hopped off the desk, swiping a pen on his way, and strode up to Ivan. Alfred caught his hand, cradling it in his own with the palm up, and wrote a string of numbers across Ivan's skin. The pen tickled, quick scratches leaving black marks. Alfred's fingers were warm and soft, and surprisingly gentle. Ivan almost missed the light pressure when Alfred dropped his hand and stepped back.

“Was that necessary?” Ivan asked, his voice quieter than he would have liked as he raised his hand to look at the number. “Writing it on paper would have been more reliable.”

Alfred shrugged and smirked again, “this was more fun.”

Behind them, Matthew rolled his eyes.

Ivan carefully ran a thumb over the numbers, not wanting to smear them. “I will call you if I need you.”

Something shifted in Alfred's smirk, his lips wobbling and a glint in his eyes, a faint pink spilling across his cheeks. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Okay.”

Ivan held his hand close to his chest, taking a cautionary step back. He liked the faces Alfred made, which was a thought he preferred to stay away from. He couldn't let himself like someone like _that_. It would be too dangerous for them, if anyone ever found out Ivan was Medved. Not that Ivan was thinking about those things, because he _wasn't_. He'd only just met Alfred. But he still got the feeling that, if they spent enough time together, that smile might cause Ivan to ask him to dinner.

“One question, though,” Alfred said.

“Yes?” Ivan focused on the blue of his shirt instead of his eyes.

“Why do you want this info personally? Mattie's the one doing the research, shouldn't _he_ be the one asking for this?”

Ivan slid his eyes up, trying not to linger on the curve of his waist or the slope of his neck. “I have a personal interest in this, as I mentioned.”

“And that would be...?”

“It's personal.”

Alfred studied him, tilting his head as he considered something. Then abruptly retreated back to his brother, sitting on the desk as close to Matthew's chair as he could get. “Right. Well. I have rehearsals most weekdays, so calling at night would be best. Shows are Friday and Saturday nights, plus a matinée on Sundays. Any time between that is fine.”

“Ah- okay. I will keep that in mind.” Ivan nodded, taking in the rushed information. “I will leave you to your work, Matthew. Alfred, it was nice meeting you.”

“Same,” Alfred said, strangely quiet now.

“Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Braginsky,” Matthew said.

With one last parting nod, Ivan left to attend to some other business. Once the door clicked shut, Matthew turned to Alfred.

“Could you maybe _not_ flirt with my boss? I like this job, and I swear, if you get me fired, I'm disowning you.”

Alfred gaped, “but he's _hot_ , and you _would not_ disown me over a job.”

Matthew chuckled, shaking his head. He wouldn't. As much as Alfred could get on his nerves, he loved his brother more than anything.

Alfred glanced at the door. “You think he's a Super?”

Matthew's brow furrowed. “Mr. Braginsky? I don't think so. I mean, if his company is doing research on us, I think he'd have said something about it by now.”

“And what if he's keeping it a secret? Kind of like, you know, _we_ are. He made a pretty big emphasis on his interests being personal.”

“I don't know, Al,” Matthew said with a small sigh, flipping open the folder Ivan had given him. Some dated back to the early 1800's, reports of spontaneous combustion and incredible feats of other things considered 'inhuman,' ruled out with supposedly more logical explanation. “I doubt it, but...I guess I wouldn't completely rule it out, either.”

“Kinda hope he is,” Alfred said. “Maybe he's also super strong and can hold me down.”

“Go to your rehearsal before you're late!” Matthew exclaimed, and Alfred laughed at his twin turning invisible to hide his reddening face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They met! Again. Sort of. Now let's see how long it takes for Ivan to figure it out.
> 
> Also: I found that riddle on DoRiddles.com (their answer was mailbox, but I think 'letters' works, too.) That's where all of Matthew's riddles will be coming from, because I suck at making them.
> 
> Thanks for any comments and kudos! :)


	3. Chapter Three

The Ghost. Gotham's current Most Wanted.

To Alfred, he was a friend. A close friend, who he was trying to help using his knowledge in psychology. He may not be licensed, but it was still _legal_. He did not charge him for anything, and he wasn't prescribing medications or giving a diagnosis. He was more like a friend giving another friend some guidance and advice. See? _Perfectly_ legal.

The public just didn't understand, because the Ghost was a Super. Their suspicions were correct in that, except for the type of superpower itself. It was just the _reasons_ behind everything that they didn't get. He needed _help_ . Help that no licensed therapist in Gotham could provide. Alfred knew because he _checked._ He did, but resources for Supers were scarce, given their recent introduction to society. Alfred also didn't trust a non-Super to understand the mental strain some abilities could cause, or how scared having a superpower could make someone. So Alfred decided he would help Gilbert in any way he could, as he had a degree in psychology _and_ was also a Super himself.

Alfred listened to him and did what he could to help, visited regularly, and took notes, kept files. And he was doing _fine_. Mostly.

Alfred stuffed his keys into his back pocket, pushing the door open with his foot, holding two pizza boxes. He shuffled into the small, dingy apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. He sighed, looking around the kitchen. Honestly, Gilbert's obsessive, borderline compulsive, need to clean was its _only_ saving grace. The checkered floor was scrubbed until it was as close to shining as it would get, the porcelain counters in a matching state, and empty spice jars in a meticulous line. _Why_ was he keeping those? Because, seriously, he barely even ate unless Alfred brought him food, and they hadn't been refilled in- what, nearly a year?

Never mind that, Alfred needed to check on him. “Gil!” He shouted. He knew he was there, Gilbert barely even _left the apartment_ without him, the hermit. “I brought pizza.”

The table, unfortunately, was the only thing in the apartment _not_ sparse and clean, so he couldn't set the boxes there. The surface was covered in scattered cogwheels and springs, time hands and other parts. Gilbert had a _thing_ with clocks, he was always building them. Putting little birds and dancing figures in the cuckoos, and painting animals on the quieter ones.

Alfred moved further into the apartment, through the living room, and lingered in the bedroom doorway. Gilbert was sitting in bed, a simple mattress on the floor, watching the news on mute from a small TV. He had the closed captions on, black boxes with white text reading out the forecast the weatherman was reporting. Behind the TV were several bird cages, all different shapes and sizes, some with chipped and peeling paint. All housing yellow canaries, their quiet tweets filling the room. Alfred didn't understand the adoration, but they kept Gilbert company.

“Hey,” Alfred said, setting the pizzas down on the dresser top.

Gilbert glanced at him and smiled, “hey. Awesome, you brought pizza. I was getting hungry.”

“And that's why people keep food in the house,” Alfred teased, walking around to the corner of the room. His corner, where he kept a beanbag chair surrounded psychology books, notebooks, other supplies. He scooped up a black composition notebook and a pen, then went to sit on the bed.

Flipping open to a blank page, Alfred wrote down the date and time, then began his usual questions. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“How's your head?” Alfred had learned early on that Gilbert suffered frequent migraines, most likely as a side-effect of his superpower.

Gilbert peeled his attention away from the screen and shrugged. “Same as it's always been. Hasn't gotten any worse, anyway, so there's that, I guess...”

“Have you taken any medication today?”

“Just an Advil this morning.”

“Have you thought about the toy shop incident?”

Gilbert signed, the sound shaky and frustrated. “Yeah. Let me guess, you want to talk to talk about it?”

“We need to, Gil. That was...kids could have been there.” Alfred _needed_ to discuss this with him if there was going to be any kind of improvement. He hadn't really gotten the chance. Right after Gilbert took him away from the toy store, he'd gotten a call from Matthew, worried about where he was. Then came rehearsals and weekend shows and his friends wanting to hang out. People were beginning to wonder why Alfred devoted so much time to Gilbert, especially when most of them hadn't even met him. He also got the feeling Gilbert was avoiding the subject.

“I put the feathers there so everyone would get out,” Gilbert said.

“That's- I mean, good, but- _not the point_ ,” Alfred said firmly, and Gilbert knew what that meant. He resigned himself, pouting as he bunched up his blankets in fists. He frowned and tugged out the ponytail he always kept his hair in, letting it fall like a curtain around his face. He didn't have the energy to cut it regularly after things got bad, so sometimes Alfred trimmed it to his shoulders for him if it got _too_ long. He wasn't very good at it, though, leaving it choppy and uneven.

“You need to stop this,” Alfred continued, “what the hell was up with that video you sent out for Medved?”

Gilbert only shrugged, eyes focused on his hands and refusing to meet Alfred's eyes.

“This is serious, Gil,” Alfred pressed, “I had to come save your ass from Medved. _Medved!_ He could have knocked you out and then you'd be in massive amounts of trouble, I wouldn't be able to help you. Now tell me what that was about.”

After a moment of hesitation, Gilbert said, “it was just to fuck with him _._ ”

Alfred stared at him like he'd grown another head, “to- what- _Gil_ . You wanted _fuck with Medved_? Are you kidding me? This isn't a fucking game. That dude is built like a tank, and you are in no shape to fight him. You're lucky I showed up when I did.”

“It's not like I couldn't stop him if I wanted. And you shouldn't have been there at all,” Gilbert looking up at him with narrowed eyes, “Seriously- if he fucking _hurt you_ -”

“I'm fine, I was fine, I can take him,” Alfred cut in, not liking the flash of anger in his eyes and deciding not to mention the large bruise on his thigh. “But- Gil. Come on. That looked like a _death threat_ . You can't just _do_ shit like that.”

Gilbert shifted his eyes over to his birds. “I just- I don't know. It was like- with the-...”

He trailed off, so Alfred continued. “I know you have trouble with impulse control and that's fine. Really, that's fine. But no more provoking Medved, and you have _got_ to stop blowing buildings up, okay? It's illegal, and dangerous, and people _notice_ that kind of thing. Even if the place is abandoned. And three people have already _died_.”

Gilbert winced at the reminder. He cared, he did. He hadn't meant for that to happen, and he attend all three funerals. Asked for their forgiveness at their caskets. Which was a little...odd, to Alfred, but okay. Whatever he needed to do. It showed he knew how awful what happened was, and that he was remorseful. The remorse was important, and as long as he felt that...Alfred supposed -considering they were accidents, and thereby _not_ murder- he could...leave it at the back of his mind.

“And why a toy store, anyway?” Alfred asked.

“Because the old man was creepy as fuck,” Gilbert said, frowning.

Old man? “Who? The owner?”

“Yeah.”

Alfred threw his head back in frustration. “What kind of bullshit- you're supposed to _tell me_ when you have a problem with something. If you don't, we're never gonna work past this.”

Gilbert lifted a hand to tug at the belt of the glove covering his right arm. “I don't know what else to do. I've tried- other stuff. It didn't work. It just gets- and you _asked me not to-_ ”

Alfred scooted closer, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from his arm. He knew what the glove hid, and how anxious it made Gilbert for anyone to see. He hated even seeing it himself. “I know, and I'm glad you stopped. That was good progress, but this new channel for your impulses isn't healthy either. So, how about this? There's an empty field not far from here. I can set something up, okay? I can get some wooden crates, barrels, trash, whatever. And you can blow that stuff up, okay? Just stop with the buildings.”

Gilbert shrugged, gave half a nod. Alfred knew that was the best answer he was going to get for now, so he gave him a soft smile and said, “I'll have it done by this weekend.”

Gilbert snorted, smirking at him, “between all the running around you do? I'll give you two weeks.”

Alfred chuckled, smiling back, “yeah, that's probably better.”

He frowned when Gilbert winced and pulled his hand away to cradle his head. “God. Fuck. These migraines are so not awesome.”

“You okay?” Alfred asked, hovering.

“Yeah. Yeah, fine.” Gilbert massaged his temples, easing the pressure, and sighed.

Gilbert had explained what his migraines felt like before. He said they were twisting, like the hands on a clock winding around inside his head. Sometimes they would subside, to an extent, and he could have a normal day, and there were certain things that helped ease the pain.

Gilbert sighed again, lifting his head. “Going away a little.”

Getting an idea, Alfred grabbed the remote and flipped channels until he found a music station playing _Nirvana_. He un-muted the TV, standing as he looked at Gilbert with a hopeful smile, _Heart Shaped Box_ was one of his favorites. When he managed to catch Gilbert's eye, he stood and started swaying and wiggling to the rhythm, dancing at a lazy place. Alfred was more used to dancing to faster, more upbeat music, like dub-step and modern pop, but he could do this too. Gilbert snorted, smirking as shook his head, and Alfred grinned at his success.

“C'mon, dance with me!” Alfred insisted, throwing the remote back onto the couch to hold his hands out invitingly. “We can worry about all the bad stuff later.”

Gilbert relented, smiling as he tied his hair back again and pushed his blankets off his lap. He stood to grab Alfred's hands and spin him around under his arm, watching him throw his back with a laugh.

* * *

It got late after a while, so Alfred sent Gilbert to bed after he took a Percogesic because his head started hurting again, and went home.

It was a nice little house, one story, housing three other people plus Alfred. They liked to think of themselves as a family, of sorts. Alfred had his keys in hand, carefully inserting one into the lock on the knob, and slowly pushed the door open. He stepped in, hoping not to disturb anyone. Sakura was supposed to be out visiting her old caretaker, Master Yao Wang, but Athena and Matthew should be home.

It was a little run down, but homey. The kitchen had a lineup of cookbooks on the counter, and Athena's dried herbs hanging from the a corner of the ceiling. The floral patterned couch in the living room had a hole in one of the seat cushions, stuffing puffing out. The shelves were littered with random things, smalls plants, and lucky cat figures. Between the four of them, they had a rather eclectic collection of decorations. The walls were covered in pictures from their adventures together, a few of family, and Sakura had some scroll with Japanese characters hanging up. There was also a terracotta pot in the corner by the window housing a Venus fly trap, courtesy of Athena.

“Al?” Matthew's voice called from the back of their rented house.

“Yeah, it's me, Mattie,” Alfred said. Athena wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, so she was probably in the bedroom she shared with Sakura.

He was mildly relieved, it meant no questions. Everyone knew _of_ Gilbert, but they didn't know _about_ him. All three had thought they were hooking up at first and Alfred thoroughly denied it because they _weren't_ and doing _that_ with Gilbert would be _weird._ He was pretty sure Sakura believed him, but Matthew still did that sly smile thing, like 'okay, sure.' Alfred hadn't dated much since his first real girlfriend, with whom things had ended...not so great.

Just as he got to the living room and flopped himself onto the couch, ready to pass out for the night, his phone started to ring. He dug it out of his pocket and furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar number. “Hello?” He answered, pressing it to his ear.

“Alfred?” An accented voice drifted through and Alfred tried to bite down a smile, resulting in something closer to a dorky smirk.

“Ivan, hey.”

“Hello. I hope you are doing well.”

“Yeah, fine, and you?” Alfred bit down on a thumbnail. Ivan was all sorts of big and tall, and much more handsome when he wasn't just a picture in the newspaper. Probably as big as Medved, which Alfred liked more than he really should.

But Medved was just _so cool_. A real-life superhero! How much more amazing could one person get? It was just unfortunate Alfred had to fight him when they met. He was sure, though, that if Medved _knew_ what was going on with the Ghost, that he needed help, he'd understand. Maybe he'd even help Alfred when Gilbert got...impulsive. Except Alfred was going to _fix that_. He was going to set up something really cool for Gilbert in a field, where it wouldn't matter if he set off a few small explosives now and then. Just until they worked through his impulse issues.

“I am doing well. I was wondering if you could help me with something,” Ivan said. There was some shuffling on the other end. It sounded like paper.

“Alright, shoot.”

“You have heard of this...the Ghost, yes?”

Alfred stiffened, sitting up straighter. What would Ivan Braginsky want with the Ghost? “Yeah, the- uh. Dude that's been blowing places up. What about him?”

“I was wondering what you thought about him. He seems rather...emotionless in the pictures of him, and he- I have _read_ that he does not seem to be intending to hurt people.”

Because he _wasn't_ and as for the emotion thing, Gilbert could get kind of...weird, sometimes. Not really in a good way, closer to somewhere towards neutral. But Alfred couldn't tell _Ivan_ that. “Um~ I don't know. I mean. If he isn't trying to hurt people, then maybe he's just, like, a pyromaniac or something? Just doing it for thrills. Lack of emotions is a sign of depression, so _if_ that's the case, maybe setting off explosives helps him to feel _something_ , you know? But I wouldn't try making assumptions about someone like that.”

That was not at all the case. Alfred was kind of starting to feel bad for lying, so he just gave his best suggestions based on what he'd think if he _didn't_ know the truth. He had to protect Gilbert.

Ivan hummed. There was the distinct sound of a keyboard. “There does not seem to be any motive behind the places he targets. The police reports said they had no connection to each other, but...it could still be possible.”

There wasn't. Not a purposeful one. And why was Ivan asking _him_ , anyway? “I mean, it's a solid idea. But didn't the news say only two of them that had any kind of connection?”

“Right,” Ivan said, a little breathy. He must have gone over that already. “The toy shop did not have any connection to the others places. Those two warehouses, the ones previously owned by the Vargas family, were the only places with commonality.”

Gilbert was really lucky those warehouses _used to_ _be_ owned by the Vargas family. They were a local branch of the Italian mafia, and don Roma was not a man anyone would want to instigate. Even the police preferred to stay away from him.

Alfred shrugged, even though Ivan couldn't see him. “Someone like this...it's impossible to know what's going on in their head. Not without talking to them.”

“Are you suggesting that I- ah. Someone talk to him, rather than try to apprehend him?”

“Uh. Well, I guess? If they can.” Alfred was _trying_.

“Mm. Well, thank you. This could be...helpful,” Ivan said.

“Sure.” Alfred didn't really see _how_ , but okay. If he said it was helpful.

Ivan started to say something else, but Alfred was distracted by his brother entering the room, socked feet padding across the carpet until he was plopped onto the couch next to him.

“What is small and thin, and gets you into places?” Matthew asked quietly, completely failing at _not_ interrupting Alfred's phone call.

Alfred stared at him, thinking. Ivan's voice was in his ear and it was kind of distracting. “What, did you buy a plane ticket? I don't know.”

Matthew rolled his eyes and shoved something into Alfred's hand. Some fancy cards in envelopes. “No. Invitations.”

“To _where_?” Alfred asked, raising a brow, and gaped at the elegantly loopy text reading _Charity Dinner at Braginsky Manor_. He turned back to his phone. Ivan must have noticed he'd stopped listening, because he wasn't talking anymore. “You invited us to your fancy ass dinner party!?”

Matthew smacked his arm and gave him that _look_ that said he was being rude.

“Ah- well, I-” Ivan attempted to start a sentence several times and aborted each of them. He finally settled on, “you are under no obligation to accept.” Clearly he was not accustomed to such a reaction. “Or donate. I understand- that is, ah. Never mind that. I invited all of my employees, and meant it as a thank you for helping me with research.”

“Oh.” Oh. Well. “That's cool. I guess we could go. It's- what, this Thursday? Yeah, I think I can swing that. Wait.” Alfred looked over at Mattie, “dude, are we going?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Matthew said, eyes flashing wide, “we can't just say no to something like this.”

“You and your politeness, I swear it's gonna kill you one day.” Alfred shook his head. “Ivan. Uh. I guess we'll be there.”

“Good,” Alfred could hear the little smile in his voice and it was honestly kind of cute. “I- ah. I look forward to seeing you there.”

Alfred smiled lopsidedly, “me, too.”

“You-” Ivan cleared his throat. Alfred swallowed a laugh at how flustered he got from one simple flirt. “I must go now.”

“Alright. See you Saturday.”

Ivan grunted something that sounded like an 'mm-hm,' then said, “goodbye.”

The line went dead and Alfred looked over at Matthew. “You wouldn't think a dude like Braginsky would get flustered so easily.”

“I think it's just you, Al,” Matthew said, smirking, teasing in his eyes. “He could barely keep his eyes off you when he came to my lab.”

Alfred's tongue darted out at him, “I thought you didn't want me flirting with your boss?”

“I'd prefer you go after someone else. Mr. Braginsky can be kind of...weird. But it's not like I'm gonna stop you if you really like him.”

Alfred shrugged, “I don't know yet. I mean, he seems nice, but I've only met the guy once. Besides, we're Supers. It's not like we can just date whoever have it be fine.”

“Doesn't mean you can't have a fun night,” Matthew said, poking him in the ribs. Alfred jumped involuntarily, batting his hand away, and tired to stifle a giggle. “He did just call you, didn't he?”

“Yeah, to ask about the Ghost and his potential psychological issues,” Alfred said, snatching a cat-face shaped pillow and hugging it close.

Matthew's brow furrowed. “Oh. That's...why would he want to know about that?”

“I dunno,” Alfred shrugged, “probably because everyone's assuming the Ghost is a Super and he seems pretty invested in the research your lab is doing.”

“Mm. Yeah, probably.” Matthew stood and started back for his room, taking their invitations with him so Alfred wouldn't lose them. “And don't think you're getting out of wearing a suit for this dinner!”

Alfred groaned in agony, flopping onto his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! It's Gilbert! I know, he looks like his 2p, but there's a reason. And I made that riddle because I couldn't find one with 'invitations' as the answer.
> 
> Thanks a bunch for any comments and kudos!


	4. Chapter Four

The sun was setting, light bouncing off the manor's large windows, and casting oranges and yellows over everything. Ivan was in his room, having just gotten back from dealing with a store robbery in the city, among other smaller crimes, and was rushing to prepare. He was already late for his own party. It was a good thing Yekaterina had agreed to take over preparations. He'd showered, then dressed in a suit set out on his bed, most likely from Winter. In his rush to get his tie on right, he'd had to redo it at least four times. Once his hair was combed, he sprayed himself with cologne, and deemed himself presentable, he rushed out of his room and down the stairs.

Refreshment tables were set up along one wall of the dining hall, and soft classical music drifted through air. Ivan slowed his pace as he entered the room, greeting his guests with a smile as he went, and they all gave an excited “there you are!” Mentioning the fact that he was late, and how they'd wondered what he was up to. He brushed their questions off with “work,” knowing they would understand and not question him further. He was starting to wonder if Yekaterina had added people to the guest list he'd given her, there were some faces he didn't quite recognize. And one face he was expecting, but had yet to spot.

Having a moment of peace, standing in the middle of the room, he took a breath and adjusted the front of his scarf. It wasn't his favorite, shorter and a gray plaid, coordinated with his black suit and tucked into his jacket. Ivan eyed the door, stifling the thought that he was waiting for him. Both of them, technically, but...it was nothing. It would lead nowhere because he wouldn't let it. That was how it always went. He just couldn't, not with what his free time consisted of.

“Ivan,” a familiar voice said and Ivan turned to Master Yao Wang with a smile. Ivan wasn't sure how old Yao was, but he guessed somewhere close to a hundred. His face and hands were layered with wrinkles, and he walked with a cane when he wasn't trying to fight people.

“Master Yao,” Ivan said, receiving the hug the man always gave him. When he pulled back, he gave a nod to Yao's grandchildren, Lee and Mai, standing behind him. Lee, as always, was seemingly vacant, while Mai smiled and waved back. She was clearly excited to be at such an event, despite having been to many.

“How have you been?” Yao asked, “I hardly see you anymore, now that you are done with lessons.”

“I am well,” Ivan said, “and yourself?”

“Fine, fine,” Yao said, nodding slowly, and rubbed his lower back.

“Would you like a place to sit?” Ivan asked, worrying about possible aches and pains. There were tables and chairs set up all around, Yao should probably be sitting.

“Ah, yes, that would be nice, thank you,” Yao smiled again, but waved away Ivan's offered hand of assistance. “You stay here and greet your guests, Lee can help me.”

“If you insist,” Ivan said, stepping back to let them pass. They gave promises to catch up later as they parted from each other, Yao's grandchildren both following him.

Ivan turned his attention back to the door. A few more people stopped to catch his attention, praising him for continuing the legacy his parents' company, and for supporting as wonderful a cause as a children's hospital. Ivan thanked them for coming and for their contributions. Once again, as soon as he was freed, his eyes drifted back to the door. He scanned the room, fidgeting with his jacket and his scarf, the need _do something_ , anything, gnawing at his hands.

Over by the refreshments table he spotted them. Alfred stood there with his brother, all dressed up in a black suit with a bow tie, casually examining his surroundings. A picture of sophistication. Until he stuffed a whole deviled egg in his mouth. Ivan chuckled as Matthew grabbed a napkin to wipe his twin's cheek with and Alfred scrunched up his face, trying to pull away. How did they slip in without Ivan noticing? Or maybe he'd been so busy looking that he'd missed them.

Ivan made his way towards them, stopping briefly to pacify certain people with promises of later meetings.

“Alfred, Matthew,” Ivan said as approached, smiling softly, “thank you for coming.”

Alfred's face lit up with a smile, “hey, big guy! Nice party.”

“Hello, Mr. Braginsky,” Matthew said, crumpling the napkin in his hands. He didn't quite succeed in his endeavor.

“I see you are enjoying the appetizers,” Ivan said, using his thumb to wipe off some hard boiled yolk and turmeric from the corner of Alfred's lip.

“Uh-” Alfred's face turned red so abruptly, Ivan almost worried on how healthy that was. He scrubbed his mouth hastily with his shirt sleeve. “Yeah.”

Matthew snorted before turning to Ivan. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Of course,” Ivan offered a small smile. All of his employees were invited, and he thought it would only be sensible to invite Alfred as well, since he was offering some assistance. It was not an excuse to see him.

Matthew glanced at Alfred, who was staring at Ivan. Again. And when Ivan stared back, Matthew stepped to the side, “if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to go- um. Say hello to some...coworkers.”

Alfred looked at him briefly, “oh, yeah, sure. See you. Say hi to Socks for me, if you see her.”

“I will.”

With Matthew gone, leaving them alone, Ivan asked, “who is Socks?”

“Sakura Honda,” Alfred said, “a close friend of mine. I thought I saw her when we came in.”

“Did you,” Ivan said, holding back a sigh. He'd known Sakura for many years, and she had a tendency for sticky fingers. An old habit from a childhood spent on the streets. He did not recall adding her name to the guest list. Though, to give the benefit of the doubt, it was entirely possible Yekaterina had.

“Do you know her?” Alfred asked, gazing up at him. “I mean- I guess that's a stupid question. If she's here...” His brow furrowed, lips twisting as he tried to save himself.

“I know Yao,” Ivan offered, “I am...acquainted with Miss Honda.”

“Oh,” Alfred said. He tugged at his bow tie and huffed, “no offense, but how do you stand all these formal events? They're so stuffy, and suits are like some kind of restraining device.”

“Good vodka,” Ivan answered truthfully. Alfred laughed, apparently taking it as a joke, his nose wrinkling with his smile. Ivan's chest grew a funny feeling, and it crawled like warm honey all the way up his neck and into his head. He should get him to laugh again, but he wasn't the best with jokes. He was about to tell him he looked handsome in a suit, even if he didn't care for wearing it, when another voice interrupted.

“Mr. Braginsky!” A stout man said.

“Mr. Montello, hello,” Ivan shook the man's hand, “how are you?”

“Good, good,” Montello said, not bothering to introduce the woman. “And yourself? This is a fine party, and for such a wonderful cause.”

“Thank you. I am well, thank you.” Ivan humored his guest, straining a smile as the man went about business and other such things. The few times they'd met, Ivan had never cared much for the man, but he was a generous donor to hospitals.

Ivan's smile fell a little when he glanced to Alfred, only find him slowly moving along the wall, leaving for -he guessed- something more entertaining. Alfred paused to send a wink and a smirk to him before turning and disappearing out the white French doors leading to the backyard garden. They'd been left open for guests to get some air, but with the light rain they'd been having recently, everyone was remaining indoors.

Ivan disengaged from the man with polite excuses, thanking him for his contributions, and attempted to follow. He assumed Alfred wanted him to chase after him, but even if he didn't...Ivan wouldn't mind a chance to speak with him privately.

Ivan stepped out the doors, watching Alfred sit on the edge of the fountain. The lights in the water casted abstract shapes across his face, making his blue eyes seem even bluer and nearly glittering. A soft smile graced his face as he dragged the tips of his fingers across the water's surface.

“You ran off,” Ivan said, stopping beside him.

Alfred shrugged, “it got boring.”

Ivan sat down next to him. “I suppose a dinner does not measure up to the backstage of a theater.” Alfred smirked, fingers still playing with the water. “What play are you doing now?”

“The Wizard of Oz,” Alfred said, his voice light and carrying a nostalgic fondness, “I'm playing the Scarecrow.”

“Ah, the one in search of a brain,” Ivan smiled, teasing, “how fitting.”

Alfred kicked his foot and muttered, “jerk. Be nice, or I won't help you anymore.” A was smile still on his face as his cheeks reddened, and Ivan chuckled, marveling at the sight. Alfred glanced at him, smile growing alongside his blush. “You know, you look pretty cute in a suit.”

Ivan nearly choked on air. Him? _Cute_? No one had called him 'cute' since he was a small child. He scoffed, brushing off his warming cheeks, but still said, “thank you.”

Alfred chuckled, biting his bottom lip. Ivan glanced down at the fountain's water. If Alfred kept _doing things_ like that, he might end up doing something stupid. When he looked back, he caught Alfred staring before quickly looking away.

“Shouldn't you get back to your guests?” Alfred asked.

Ivan shrugged, “you are one of them, are you not?”

Alfred snorted, reaching back to play with the water again. “I'm sure there's a lot of people in there that would appreciate your attention.”

“Are you saying you don't?” Ivan asked, raising a brow.

Alfred's face turned red again, and he stammered, “I- no- you- shut up!” He dragged his fingers quickly, splashing water up at Ivan.

Ivan gasped, the sleeve of his suit now wet. Without really thinking about it, he splashed back, only feeling silly and childish _after_ the fact.

Alfred blinked, droplets clinging to his hair and glasses. With a determined look, he returned the favor, dragging up more water than before, then promptly jumped up and ran further into the garden.

“Wait-” Ivan stood to stop him, but Alfred was already hidden somewhere among the hedges and bushes. Ivan glanced back at the party, the guests still inside. He really shouldn't disappear on them, but...it wasn't like he could just let Alfred wander as he pleased either.

Ivan followed the path he'd watched him disappear on, scanning everything carefully. “Alfred...Alfred!”

He heard faint giggling from a little ways further down the path. Past the tulips and lilies, roses and vines of ivy. All the way to the patch of tall sunflowers. More giggles, but he still couldn't see Alfred.

Swaying flowers gave away his position, and Ivan smirked as he entered the patch. “Alfred, you need to come out. You are keeping me from my guests.”

Alfred huffed, “I'm not keeping you from anything. No one said you _had_ to follow me.”

“It would me irresponsible of me to leave a guest alone out here in the dark,” Ivan said. He found him sitting at the center of the sunflowers, legs criss-crossed, and a deceptively innocent smile on his face. “Alfred.”

Alfred patted the clear spot in front of him. “Sit with me.”

“We should get back.” As much as he kind of wanted to, to talk to him and learn about him, he didn't feel like he should.

Alfred pouted, “please?”

Ivan glanced back at the house, then to Alfred. The stars overhead were reflected in his glasses, his hair lit by the moonlight. The air was cooled by a light breeze, rustling the grass and leaves. It was a nice night, and inside was -as Alfred said earlier- so stuffy. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to stay for a few minutes.

With only a little hesitance, Ivan sat. The sunflowers towered over their heads, obscuring their view of the anything else around them. Like they were in their own little world. “We can not stay out here for very long.”

“Okay, okay,” Alfred scooted closer until their knees bumped. “Tell me a secret.”

Ivan raised a brow, knee-jerk suspicion creeping in. “Why?”

Alfred shrugged. “You're interesting. I'll tell you one, too, if you want.”

Ivan eyed him. He didn't seem to have any ill intent, or to be looking for anything specific. Really, it felt more like they were two kids whispering in their clubhouse. He could tell him something simple and harmless, and see where it went from there. “I bought a hamster once, once I was five. My parents did not know, they thought I was too young for a pet. I had been out with Winter-”

“Who's Winter?”

“Our butler. I begged him to let me get one when we passed a pet shop. He helped me sneak it into the house, and set it up in my closet with a cage and food and water. Winter said he would bring me things for it, but it was my job to keep it fed and clean. But the latch on the door was faulty, and it ended up escaping. I was very upset. I never found it, and Winter helped me hide everything.”

Alfred clamped a hand over his mouth, his eyes lit with amusement. Ivan frowned, and Alfred waved a hand. “No, that's- that's so cute, really. It's cute. Why'd you want a hamster so bad?”

Ivan tugged at the short scarf around his neck, staring at his lap. “I wanted a friend.”

“Aw~” Alfred cooed, still trying to trap his giggles in his mouth with his hands. “That's so cute! I love it.”

Ivan's frown deepened, his face and neck feeling warm. This wasn't how he'd hoped to make Alfred laugh. But...at least he was, and it felt nice on his ears. “I believe you said you would also tell a secret?”

“Right, right,” Alfred said, calming himself. He cleared his throat, relaxing. “Let's see...does it still count as a secret if Mattie knows?”

Just to be difficult, Ivan said, “no.”

“Hm.” Alfred thought quietly for longer than Ivan expected, the darkness making it difficult to read his expressions. He seemed to be having a difficult time finding something Matthew _didn't_ know about him. “I sneaked out once. I mean, I did a lot, but it was always me and Mattie together. This time it was summer, I'd just turned seventeen, Mattie was on some study trip up in Canada, and I was stuck at home. The county fair was going, and it was open pretty late, so I went and walked around. I met this guy, he was kinda older -nineteen- and he kept flirting with me. We went on a bunch of rides together, and played games, ate popcorn and cotton candy and drank the most sugary lemonade ever. He won me this big blue whale from a ring toss, and then kissed me. It was my first kiss from another guy. I never saw him again, but...it was nice.”

“You never told Matthew?” Ivan asked. It was a cute story, soft and warm, like something from a romance movie. It seemed fitting for Alfred.

“No,” Alfred said, the fond smile still on his face, “I just...I don't know. I felt like keeping that night to myself.”

Ivan wondered if he could give Alfred a memory like that, one he would hold so close and find so special that he wouldn't even tell Matthew. It seemed like a silly thought, considering they weren't likely to see each other often after the dinner party was over. Or maybe that was a good thing. Ivan could feel the beginnings of certain _feelings_ starting to form. A shift in focus from how attractive he was to how interesting. He wanted to hear what other stories Alfred might tell him.

Before he could ask, though, a familiar voice that was far too close called Alfred's name.

A grin grew on Alfred's face. He threw his arms in the air as though celebrating something, and exclaimed, “Socks!” Then bounced up and stepped around Ivan, grabbing the sheer sleeves of her dress and shaking them. “I thought I saw you earlier. What're you doing up here?”

“Matthew said you disappeared,” Sakura said, her smile soft and small as she fixed her sleeves, “he asked me to help find you.”

Ivan stood and dusted himself off. How long had they been out there together? He nearly forgot about everything going on inside. That was...a bit reckless of him, really. He had other people he needed to think about besides Alfred.

Sakura's eyes shifted to Ivan, the barest hint of surprise in them, “Braginsky.”

“Honda,” Ivan said, trying to keep the hardness out of his voice. They had never particularly gotten along, especially after Sakura stole a particular item from him. She'd always had a tendency for sticky fingers, a habit that lingered from a childhood spent on the streets.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Sakura said, giving a small bow her head, “but my friend's safety is important to me.”

Alfred glanced between them, at Ivan's narrowed glare and Sakura's indifferent stare. It didn't surprise him that she would say such a thing in front of Alfred. Reminding of what he was, to watch his step around someone uninvolved. Not that she really had any right.

“Uh. Am I missing something?” Alfred laughed almost nervously, and Ivan was so glad he didn't know what Sakura meant. “Socks, it's just Ivan. Why wouldn't I be safe?”

Sakura glanced up at him, remaining silent for a moment too long. “I am only being cautious.”

Ivan caught the recognition in Alfred's eyes and almost panicked for a moment. Sakura _swore_ to Yao that she would keep it a secret.

Alfred laughed again and bumped her with his elbow, “you worry too much. I'm fine, honest.”

There was something in his voice, in his wording, that said _I know what I'm doing_. Should Ivan worry? Maybe he should ask Yao about Alfred. He'd have to know him if he was such a good friend of Sakura's.

“We should get you back to your brother,” Ivan said.

“Yeah, Mattie's probably worried,” Alfred agreed, nodding. As they walked back along the path, Alfred excitedly explained to Sakura how he'd met Ivan and _wow_ , they were all friends, how cool! They should all hang out sometime.

Ivan was not too thrilled with the idea, but still smiled and hummed noncommittally when Alfred turned the suggestion on him. As soon as they returned inside, Alfred spotted Matthew and raced off to catch up with him, Sakura following behind.

Ivan would have liked to spend the whole party with Alfred at his side, but he had other guests to tend to and Alfred had his little group he seemed content to stay within. Matthew said something that made Alfred pout and Sakura stifled laughter behind her hand.

As people mulled around, roaming from one conversation to the next, someone else came into view. They were watching Alfred from against a nearby wall, leaning back and blending in while sticking out. They were pale, hair covered by the hood of a black sweater, and a masquerade mask covered their eyes. They _really_ didn't look like they were supposed to be there, but as soon as Ivan started to make his way over, a few people passing through his line of sight, they disappeared. He looked around, trying to spot them again.

He reached up to adjust his scarf, a nervous habit, and felt something tucked in the folds of the fabric. Pulling it away, he found a note.

_Be careful with him_.

How...?

A prickling cold sweat spread on the back of Ivan's neck. Someone put that there. Without him _noticing_. And he could only assume it meant Alfred. Be careful with Alfred? Who- and why-? There were too many racing questions, and Ivan quickly sought out Winter, who was standing by the front door in the foyer.

“Winter,” Ivan said, his urgency easily heard in his voice.

“Yes?” Winter raised a brow, full attention focused on Ivan.

“There is someone that is not supposed to be here. They are wearing hooded sweatshirt and a mask. I need you search the parameter.”

“Right away.” Winter walked away quickly, starting for the kitchen, where sneak-ins most often entered and exited from. Ivan had a feeling he would not find the person. It was still important to look.

It was also important that he see to Alfred's safety, and hurried back to the dining hall to find him. He was where he'd last seen him, standing by a back wall with Matthew and Sakura.

Ivan hesitated. Alfred looked like he was having fun, laughing with them, a cup of pink punch in his hands. He seemed fine, and the masked figure was nowhere Ivan could see. He decided not to cause concern and let Alfred be for now. If Winter found anything and it seemed necessary, Ivan would escort him somewhere safe. Maybe he could call him tomorrow or the day after, and ask about any strange people he might know. Or ask him to lunch just so he could see for himself that Alfred was fine and safe.

Ivan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Things were fine. If anything happened, he could deal with it. Turning, Ivan stuffed the note into the pocket inside his jacket and went to speak with Yao, as the man had requested earlier, trying to put the incident out of his mind.

Later, when the party was over -Alfred discreetly squeezed his hand when he said goodbye,- Winter would tell him he'd found nothing. It was a false alarm. The news would not ease Ivan's mind, or take the edge off his nerves. He would go out to patrol, distracted by his worry for Alfred, trying to convince himself that someone like him wouldn't possibly involve himself with dangerous people.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred doesn't know that Gilbert is super overprotective of him. Arthur is going to come in eventually. Probably soon. Francine, too. She's gonna be his girlfriend, but it won't be a major pairing.  
> The story should start to pick up from here, I feel like it's been a little slow. But I have a better idea of where it's actually going now.
> 
> Thanks for comments and kudos!


	5. Chapter Five

Ivan did call Alfred a few days after the party. Twice, actually. Alfred laughed at his interrogation of his well-being, jokingly asking if they were playing twenty-questions, and why did Ivan want to know if he knew anyone weird? Ivan excused it as mere curiosity, and moved on other topics. During both calls, they talked for far long than he had expected to, about a wide of range things. More for show than anything else, he asked more about depression. He never knew it could manifest in physical symptoms like headaches and chest pains. According to Alfred, several mental illnesses could. Particularly the ones he had called 'mood disorders.' It was all very interesting, and Alfred's voice was nice to listen to. And it was Alfred who had offered the idea of seeing each other. Actually, he just offered to swing by his office after his weekly lunch with Matthew, but it was _still_ an offer to see Ivan.

Ivan, despite the nagging feeling that it was a bad idea, agreed. They had a- not a date. A _meeting_ , in a few days. He was looking forward to it more than he thought he should be.

His patrols had been relatively peaceful. Ivan had stopped a mugging or two, but other that, there was not much he considered noteworthy or unusual. It was nice, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it ended. It also gave his mind ample time to wander as he perused the streets. And, of course, it went to the note. _Be careful with him_. Written in neatly, despite the fact that whoever wrote it had pressed hard enough to leave noticeable indents. Ivan was still worried about it. The only conclusion was that it was talking about Alfred, considering he'd seen a strange intruder watching him just before finding the note.

Ivan was worried for him. Which was why he found himself sitting on a rooftop, on a building across the street from the theater. The marquee above the ticket booth was lit up a bright white, with blocky letters reading _The Wizard of Oz – Live!_ Alfred was on stage, escaping a wicked witch with a tin man, a lion, and pretty girl. Ivan had sneaked in just to take a peek, to see him and be sure he was alright, and to inspect his costars. Through all of the make up and costumes, he couldn't get a good look at the Cowardly Lion nor the Tin Man, but he saw Dorothy. She was being played a petite girl with smooth, dark skin and curly black hair tied off into pigtails with red ribbons. According to the playbill, her name was Victoria. Alfred looked decidedly adorable all dressed up as the Scarecrow, skipping along the yellow brick road, a little brown triangle on his nose and a straw hat on his head. He looked like he was having fun, and Ivan decided he'd have to go and actually watch the play sometime.

But for now, Ivan had work to do. He was observing the perimeter of the theater, eyes sharp and hyper observant. The college student manning the ticket booth had gone inside a while ago, his job done for the night. The streets were mostly quiet, few people driving or walking by.

Ivan considered the fact that Alfred _was_ an actor. It was, unfortunately, not at all uncommon for such people attract stalkers and other unsavory types. And with Alfred's personality, Ivan could imagine someone 'mistaking' his friendliness for flirtation. He would have to keep a watchful eye out.

The play would be over soon, within a few minutes. If Ivan's timing was correct, Alfred was probably being informed by the Wizard that he did, in fact, have brain, and Dorothy would be sent home via heel clicks. Then the sidewalk would be flooded with patrons and Ivan would move on for the night. After checking on Alfred, of course, possibly making sure he made it to his car alright. Maybe he would even say hi. That idea made Ivan giggle. How would Alfred react to Medved? He could almost imagine the surprise on his face.

Medved's phone went off, beeping rapidly as it alerted him to suspicious activity being detected. A warehouse's security camera had spotted someone there when there shouldn't have been. Ivan had been tracking them as a precaution to catching the Ghost. This could be him.

Ivan scaled down the building's fire escape and found his motorcycle where he'd left it, in a narrow side road behind a row of shops. The warehouse was near the edge of the city, close to the docks. It reached it relatively quickly, speeding far over the limit once traffic thinned and there few others were around.

It was another deserted warehouse, a _keep out_ sign hanging from the boarded up industrial doors. Another sign read _condemned_ and a third said _no trespassing_. Two of the lower wooden boards had been pried off, nails bent awkwardly, like they'd been tugged at with a crowbar. Ivan had to lower himself to the ground and slid under the upper boards on his hands knees. He moved as quietly as he could, the only sounds from him being fabric shuffling on concrete and debris being moved out of the way.

Once Ivan was inside, he could hear faint mumbling, clicks and shuffling. He stood slowly, scanning over the dark area. In the far corner was the Ghost, setting up what looked like an extensive homemade explosive. He was pacing, fiddling with some connected to a mass of wires, which snaked to several black boxes.

The Ghost sighed, sounding frustrated, and smacked a palm hard enough to his forehead that Ivan could hear it from across the building. His muttering got louder, almost audible, eyes glaring at nothing. He looked...in pain, almost. Until he took in a deep breath, and his face went blank and emotionless.

Ivan took a step forward, planning escape routes and plans of action. He glanced around, from one area of the warehouse to another, always going back to the Ghost after a few seconds. He didn't want to take his eyes off of him for any long than he needed to. Ivan froze, slinking back into shadows when the Ghost pulled out a cellphone.

With a few presses of his thumb, he held it to his ear. “Hey...are you-...yeah. I need you to- I'm- just get here. Please.” He sounded surprisingly distressed, eyes wide and shifting sharply, mouth turned down in a frown. He listened to whoever was on the other end, and then hung up. His thumb moved quickly across the screen -Ivan assumed to send a text- and then he shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket.

Ivan had never heard him speak before, let alone show something so akin to emotion. It was weird, almost, especially to discover the hint of an accent. German, if Ivan had to guess. The Ghost squatted, fiddling with something else, but Ivan couldn't see it. While his back was turned, he took the chance to get closer and hopefully apprehend him quickly.

Halfway across the warehouse, something crunched under Ivan's foot. The Ghost's head snapped up, eyes even wider than before and landing on Ivan. He shot to his feet, hands empty of whatever he'd been holding before.

“How-” The Ghost's shot a glance at the warehouse doors.

Ivan raised his hands slowly, “disarm the explosives.”

The Ghost shook his head, “I need my friend.”

“You do not need to do this,” Ivan tried, though he doubted reasoning with him would work.

“I need my friend.”

Okay. His friend. Ivan assumed he meant Stars was the on the way. “You will hurt him, if those detonate while he is here.”

The Ghost flinched, almost glancing back but not quite. It was more of a twitch toward his shoulder. “I- fucking- Go away.”

“I cannot do that,” Ivan said, taking a small step forward.

The Ghost took a hurried step back. “I have to wait for my friend.”

Wind picked up outside, slamming a loose tarp into the side of the warehouse outside, and the Ghost flinched, watching it. While he was distracted, Ivan shot forward and grabbed him by the beck and the front of his hoodie, and slammed him into the closest wall. It was black. Like the one he'd seen a few nights ago, on whoever was watching Alfred at his party. A coincidence, for sure, lots of people had black hoodies. In fact, Ivan himself had one.

“Shit- fucking _fuck_ -” The Ghost's eyes were wide, startled, his mouth popped open as much as it could be with a hand in the way.

“Is it detonated?” Ivan asked, trying to keep his voice calm and even.

“No!” The Ghost squirmed, weakly clawing at Ivan's hand. “Not yet.” His blunt nails did little to get through Ivan's thick gloves. The Ghost wasn't just lanky, as Ivan had initially thought, but also surprisingly weak. No wonder he needed Stars to be his muscle.

“I am calling the police,” Ivan said, “and you will never blow up another building.” If it came to it, it wouldn't be difficult to wrangle the Ghost into his car and lock him up. He also had a pair of handcuffs on his belt. But then there was his disappearing act. Speaking of, why didn't he just do that to escape? Unless...he _couldn't_ while Ivan had him.

The Ghost snickered, a smirk growing on his lips. It was a little unsettling, the sudden amusement in his eyes. “Fucking lock me up, I dare you. I'll find a way out.” He laughed, the sound high and wobbly, as though he'd been told a particularly funny joke. “I have all the _time_ in the world!”

Ivan did not care to know what he meant by that. Ivan grabbed him around the jaw just to shut him up, ignoring the way the Ghost tried to bite and lick at his gloved hand.

“Fucking asshole,” the Ghost growled through clenched teeth. “I- _need_ my friend. I need-”

“You need a room in Arkham,” Ivan said. He tried to assess whether he could free one hand to call for the police, and still have a decent hold on the Ghost.

Again, the Ghost laughed as though it were all a joke. “Sounds awesome!”

Ivan growled warningly, but it only seemed to make him laugh more. “Shut up!” He had an idea to at least get some information out of him, and chuckled. “You can not disappear as you usually do, can you?”

The Ghost's smirk widened. “Like I'd tell you anything about my awesome superpower.”

So he _was_ a Super. Both him and Stars. According to Matthew's research, Supers did tend to keep themselves in small groups. It was more of a social caution than anything, considering how non-Supers tended to react to them. “I doubt it is anything impressive,” Ivan said casually.

The Ghost huffed, squirming again, and glared at him. “Fuck you. It's awesome.”

“Mm,” Ivan shrugged, feigning carelessness. “Regardless, you will be locked away in the end.”

“You're no fun. Let me go. I need my friend.” The Ghost pried at Ivan's fingers, huffing in frustration. “ _I need my friend_ , okay? Fucking-”

In a blink, the Ghost was out of his grasp and shirtless, his hoodie and t-shirt hanging limply in Ivan's fist. He was scrawny, ribs protruding from under nearly translucent white skin. The Ghost stood a few feet away, defensive and smirking.”Fucker. Told you my superpower is awesome.”

Ivan tossed the clothes aside. He was not about to let the Ghost escape _again._ He'd gotten away far too many times with blowing up buildings, especially for being responsible for the death of three people. Ivan needed to find a way to get to him without him disappearing, however he did it. One step, and the Ghost leaned back, preparing to leave, watching Ivan's every move.

“My friend is coming, you met him last time,” the Ghost said, and his smirk stretched, eyes sharpening like needles. He appeared directly in front of Ivan, close enough that Ivan began to worry he could see through the lenses of his gas mask. “If you go _anywhere_ near him this time, I'll kill you.”

The Ghost eyed Ivan's mask, brow raising.

“Ghost.”

The Ghost jumped, a small leap to the side, and they both saw Stars standing several feet away, metal bat slung across his shoulders.

“You promised,” Stars said.

“I didn't- I wasn't-” the Ghost frowned, shoulders hunching like a scolded child. Ivan raised a brow. Did Stars have that much control over him?

“And you-” Stars strode toward them, pointing at Medved, “fuck off of sick people. That's a dick move.”

Sick...? Ivan looked over at the Ghost. His eyes were glued to Stars. Sick physically, or mentally? Both made sense, considering his odd behavior and deathly pale appearance. “I do not believe that excuses violent behavior.”

Stars stared at him a moment. “Fair enough. But he isn't trying to hurt anyone, so again- fuck off. And _where_ is his shirt?”

“He wormed out of it,” Ivan shot back, because _really_ , that was not his fault. Was Stars the Ghost's caretaker?

Ivan snapped his attention to the Ghost, hearing his footsteps as he tried to inch towards his explosives setup. As soon as Ivan tried to get to him to stop him, Stars placed himself between Ivan and the Ghost.

“Stay away from him,” Stars said, readying his bat.

Ivan pulled his pipe from his back, “he needs to be put away.”

“I'm a psychologist, okay? I'm helping him. He just needs to work through some stuff.”

Alfred's face fluttered through Ivan's mind. Blond, tan, studied psychology. He was the right height, too.

No.

Alfred wouldn't- Ivan refused to believe Alfred would willingly associate with the likes of the Ghost. Alfred was friendly, and flirted with him, and visited his brother's lab even though it was kind of out of the way of the theater. Not the kind of person to condone blowing up buildings.

“He won't-”

“Shut up,” Ivan interrupted. It was only his mind playing tricks that made Stars' voice suddenly sound very similar to Alfred's. “If you do not get out of my way, I will fight you.”

“Figures,” Stars huffed, and swung his bat. Ivan easily met it with his pipe.

Like the first time they met, they kept swinging at each other, landing few hits and avoiding many. The Ghost stood in front of his explosives, watching with a frown and wide eyes. Ivan didn't have time to pay much attention to him, other than to make sure he didn't try detonating anything.

The Ghost was breathing heavily, quickly, eyes glued to the fight. Stars...Stars was fighting with Medved. He _told_ Medved to stay away from him, and now Stars was in trouble. All because of Medved. Stupid Medved, with his stupid crime fighting and interrupting his plans. The Ghost inhaled sharply when Medved's pipe connected with Stars' stomach and he crumpled to the floor with a strangled noise.

Ivan wasn't sure how it happened. He was going after Stars again, just to keep him down so he could stop the Ghost. Before he reached him, he found himself outside, next to his car, swiping his pipe at the air. The warehouse blew up seconds later, and he was too disoriented to even pay it any attention.

What...the _fuck_?

Ivan could only stare at the burning building. How- how did...

He decided to leave before the police showed up, slipping into his car. It wasn't until then that he noticed how much his shoulder ached, like someone had beat it with something, and he was sure he would find a deep bruise later. He sat there for an unknown amount of time, watching the leftover flames of the explosion. Where had they gone? He assumed they got out, somehow. He scanned the area around the warehouse, but he didn't see any trace of them.

He needed to put a lot more effort into figuring out just what the fuck the Ghost's superpower was.

In Stars' car, now several miles away, Stars drove them to the Ghost's apartment. The Ghost slumped against the door, arms crossed tightly over his chest, now wearing a spare hoodie Stars kept in the backseat.

“You promised, Gil,” Stars said, trying to sound as stern as he could.

“I fucking- I was fucking _waiting_ for you, okay? And that fucker wouldn't _leave_.”

Stars sighed, “I can't blame him for being suspicious. You are wanted by the police. Arthur won't shut up about how pissed he is that they haven't caught you yet. And what was with beating Medved's freaking shoulder?”

“Tch,” the Ghost glared out the window. “I don't like the way he looks at you.”

Stars raised a brow, glancing at him briefly. “You can't even see his face.”

The Ghost merely shrugged. “Doesn't matter. I can still tell. First that Braginsky douche, and now this guy...”

Stars rolled his eyes and took a hand off the steering wheel to give the Ghost's wrist a comforting squeeze. “I'm not gonna forget about you, I promise. And seriously- no more buildings. I'm not tolerating it again.”

The Ghost continued to pout, and Stars focused on driving, both knowing there would be further discussion later. Stars was all he had left, really, and the thought of being forgotten by him sent unpleasant shutters down his throat. He would do anything to make sure Alfred never left him.

Anything.

* * *

After the end of a long conference, Ivan was left alone in the meeting room. He leaned against the table, staring blankly out the glass wall in front of him, arms crossed over his chest. As he had guessed, there was a purple and sickly yellow bruise on his shoulder. It was unsettling, how he didn't remember Stars beating his shoulder, let alone getting hit hard enough there for such a bruise to form. He wasn't even sure it was Stars that had done it.

Ivan couldn't stop thinking about the other night. There was something about it that didn't sit right with him. Aside from suddenly being outside in the blink of eye, and strange injuries. He couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, though. It was just a little suspicion, planted by Stars' similarities to Alfred, and grown by an active imagination.

Ivan was beginning to wonder if he was letting his budding affections for Alfred blind him to...to _something_ involving the Ghost. Had he missed something, in his interactions with Alfred?

What would he do if that was the case?

How would he even find out? It wasn't like he could just _ask_.

Ivan stood straight, turning sharply, when the door opened. He relaxed at seeing Alfred walk in, smiling at him.

“Hey there, big guy,” he said, closing the door behind him as he padded into the room.

“Alfred,” Ivan said, smiling softly. Right. He'd nearly forgotten about their meeting. He still couldn't help being glad to see him. “How did you know I was in here?”

“Mattie,” Alfred smiled, coming to stand beside him, “he showed me up to your office, but you weren't there, so he said you were probably in here. I hope you don't mind, we weren't sure but he left in the hallway anyway.”

“It is fine.” Ivan grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

Alfred chuckled, surprise making him hesitate before he wrapped his arms around Ivan's middle. “I- uh, missed you, too.”

“Mm.” Ivan held him closer, tightening his arms around him. He smelled sweet, like vanilla and spice. Ivan pulled away, releasing Alfred and smirking at how pink his cheeks were. “How are you?”

“I've- um,” Alfred lifted himself to sit on the table, swinging his legs, eyes wandering over the view from the glass wall, “I've been pretty good. How about you?”

His took in those bright blue eyes being on him. “I have been alright.”

“Oh!” Alfred's eyes lit up, “guess what!”

“Hm?” Ivan hummed, leaning his hip against the table next to him, standing just close enough to be considered intimate. Half a plan was forming, somewhere in his mind, though he wasn't sure what to do with it or if he even wanted to go through with anything like that.

“My friend from the theater, Victoria -she plays Dorothy- found this really cool club downtown!” Alfred said, grinning.

“Really,” Ivan said, glad for such a simple topic.

“Yeah, she wants to go there sometime, with everyone from the theater,” Alfred continued, “some people are bringing their partners, and not everyone is going. But it sounds like a really fun place. They have holograms on the ceiling!”

Ivan chuckled at his enthusiasm. “That does sound interesting.”

Alfred grinned again, nodding excitedly. “Have you been there before?”

“What is it called?” Ivan shifted, pushing off the table to pull Alfred's knees apart. Alfred blushed and smiled, hands curled against his chest. Ivan wouldn't have thought he could be shy, with the way he openly flirted with him. Maybe it was because Ivan hadn't really blatantly reciprocated before.

“Um~ Puzzles, I think,” Alfred said, his smile softening into something sheepish. Ivan noticed the cute cowlick at the front of Alfred's hairline. Stars had a very similar one. Too many similarities that he dearly wished he could ignore.

“I do not believe I have,” Ivan said, a heavy feeling settling in his gut. He didn't want to believe... _that_. But he had to make sure. He would have to be careful. If he just kissed Alfred right now and tried to pull his shirt off, he might scare him away by going too fast. Seeing those star tattoos would be definite confirmation, though, without alerting Alfred to anything Ivan didn't want him to know.

“Alfred,” Ivan said, sliding his hands around Alfred's hips, smiling sickeningly sweet. Alfred's nervous smile and blush made him feel bad for being so suspicious. An unfortunate necessity.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?” Ivan asked.

Alfred smiled wider, pressing himself against Ivan's chest to hide his burning face, and played with the buttons of Ivan's shirt. “Yeah.”

Ivan rubbed his hips, and place a feathery kiss to the top of his head in a silent apology. He hated that he had to do this, but he _needed_ to know. And...if it turned out that Alfred _wasn't_ Stars, then maybe. Maybe Ivan could keep him, and protect him. However long it lasted, Ivan wouldn't let anything get to him. Not the Ghost, or anyone else.

Alfred's head popped up, cheeks dusted a fierce pink, “so~ where're we gonna go?”

“It is a surprise,” Ivan said, mainly because he didn't actually know yet.

“Okay,” Alfred said, watching his own hands fiddle with Ivan's button. He looked like he was trying to hide just how excited he was, and guilt pooled in Ivan's chest. He wasn't _using_ him, or tricking him. He just...needed to know something. He did have a genuine interest in Alfred, and he did want to spend some time with him. Ivan would be careful, and as honest as he could. It would all be fine in the end. Hopefully.

“I will text you details later,” Ivan said.

“Okay,” Alfred said again, still grinning, “nowhere _too_ fancy, though.”

Ivan smiled softly, remembering how he'd found the dinner party and wearing a suit too stuffy. “Of course.”

Ivan would be sure to take him somewhere he'd enjoy, and treat him to him a nice night. They would have fun, and get to know each other better. And whatever happened, Ivan would act according to whatever he deemed necessary.

After a small conversation about how their days had been, Alfred hopped off the table and said he had to get going. He gave Ivan a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and said he was looking forward to their date. Ivan watched him bounce down the hallway to the elevator, glancing back over his shoulder several times. Ivan was looking forward to it, too. As much as he could, considering his minor ulterior motive. He left the conference to return to his private office. He had a date to plan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Important note!)) Updates will probably be slow until further notice. My laptop died, which means I may have lost everything on it. Still trying to recover my data, but...it's doubtful. I'm borrowing my mom's laptop for now, but I have other stuff to take care of to which writing will have to take a backseat. So...yeah.
> 
> Victoria (girl playing Dorothy) is Seychelles. Also, Alfred doesn't know just how bad Gilbert's mental stability is, which is why he's so chill with everything. He thinks he's helping Gilbert get better. (Spoiler: He's not.) It's like he's too close to see what's really happening.
> 
> Thanks for any comments and kudos :)


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